of course he grins
by crearealidad
Summary: Even on vacation, Castle has to stick his nose into things and it's Beckett's job to pull him back.


**This was written for vacationthon on livejournal, with a prompt from palgrave_golden.**

**Prompt: Castle and Beckett's first romantic getaway as a couple. One problem; there's been a murder in the place they're staying.**

**This story is mostly just fluff, but there is a rather large spoiler for 5x01 lurking here.**

* * *

When she wakes, over-warm and a bit sore, it's still dark outside but blue and white light flashes against the wall of her hotel room. _Castle,_she thinks immediately, panic sucking air down her throat too quickly as she wrests her still tingling arm out across cool Egyptian cotton, searching for him. But their bed is empty – the sheets too cool and she barely remembers to gather the comforter around her nude form as she rolls out of the bed to the balcony and the source of the strobe lighting.

For a moment, she's blinded by the harsh glare of the squad cars' strip lights and she clutches her hand instinctively for the weapon no longer at her hip. She's on vacation – her gun a dozen or so states away in New York because he'd said "who brings a gun on a pre-honeymoon, Beckett?"

"Cops do," she'd told him but stopped there because he'd been so caught up in the romance that even he hadn't thought about the tremulous deal she'd struck with the Senator. She couldn't kill his sweetness, that giddy grin that had been plastered across his face ever since she'd yes, by reminding him that there was still a threat looming. But because of that, she's here, stepping out on the balcony with fear tightening her chest without a weapon, without any defense. She squints against the light, struggling to make out the dark silhouettes surrounding the two Florida State cruisers parked at the edge of the beach.

But it's the body on the sand that is the first identifiable figure that she can make out – lit up by the high-beam headlights spilling out onto the beach – blood glistening red on the washed out skin and darkening the sand beneath. She knows it's a murder immediately, her mind taking only a few moments to calculate that there are far too many stab wounds for suicide and they're too uniform to have been made by an animal.

It takes only a few seconds more to realize that it is not Richard Castle. That man splayed out on the beach is too young, too gangly to be Castle, and his hair is most certainly too long. When she lets out the breath she's been holding, she sags into the railing of the balcony in relief, eyes dragging back to the shadowed figures keeping watch over the crime scene. There's no sign yet of investigators, a forensic team, or even the coroner, just a few officers who were seemingly the first on scene.

She's about to go inside – check the lobby and the vending machines and start freaking out – when she suddenly recognizes the familiar rumbling timbre of his voice filtering in amongst those of what must be the responding officers.

"Castle?" she snaps, before she even knows she's annoyed. One of the shadowed forms swivels then waves with both hands. Right. She sighs again and watches him jog over, clad in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and seemingly barefoot.

"Beckett!" he huffs excitedly, tilting his head up to greet her. "There's a body!"

"I can see that, Castle. You know this is Florida. Not New York City and we're supposed to be on vacation." Tugging the comforter more fully around herself beneath her armpits as she sees a few of the officers turning to face in her direction, she waits for his answer, feeling the tension building along the back of her neck.

"What are the chances, Beckett? A murder right below the hotel room of an NYPD homicide detective and her famous mystery writer? I had to check it out." His exuberance is bubbling and she can feel it from two floors up – he doesn't even notice that she's imagining hauling him back up to her by his ears.

"You should join us!" he adds when she doesn't reply.

"What happened to getting _away_ from murder? 'Trade in death for sun and sand and life' you said. 'It'll be _fun' _you said." Finally the bite behind her words seems to penetrate as he glances back to the officers behind him, watching as a black van emblazoned "Coroner" with the Florida State seal pulls up to the scene.

"I just thought you'd be curious," he offers and even though his face is hidden by the shadows and flashing lights she can literally see him pouting at her.

Her shoulders sag, leaning further over the rail, eyes scanning back towards the body. The techs have arrived and their cameras are flashing and clicking away as they document the scene. She does want to know and it's not just that lingering awareness that this might not be a coincidence, though that is still there in her mind. No, mostly she wants to know because someone died as she slept, their life ending just outside her window; close enough that she can make out general features – height, hair color, clothing, race, approximate age. She could see the dark patch of blood soaked sand that tells her that the victim bled out on the spot.

Before she knows it, she's rolling her eyes and warning him, "Don't move – I'm coming down."

He grins. _Of course he grins._

"You'll have to come out through the lobby – they taped off the back stairs and hallway," he calls to her as she turns away, shaking her head. Once she gets inside, she shucks the comforter onto the bed before poking around for her clothes. They're scattered – he'd grown impatient with her bedtime preparations and insisted on 'helping'. She hadn't even had time to unpack her pajamas, though she's seriously considering pulling them out because the sundress she'd worn the day before was more than just a bit wrinkled. But one look at her undisturbed suitcase reminds her that he's down there alone with those officers who have no idea just how much trouble Richard Castle can get into with a little leeway.

Her bra is found, but her panties seem to be missing – her dress reaches her ankles and it's dark so she gives up –snatching up her keycard and pushing her feet into her sandals. She just keeps picturing him charming the officers into giving him a closer look while spouting ridiculous theories and making them both look like idiots. She's certain that he's already told them about her – he seems to really enjoy bragging about her these days, exaggerating her into some sort of real life mythical heroine until she's blushing and certain that she can never quite live up to the ideal he paints.

She's out the door and through the lobby a minute later, rounding the hotel quickly before she realizes that she's essentially a civilian. No gun, no badge, though her NYPD photo ID is tucked away in her bag back in the room, but she's not about to go back up for it. Charming or not, she doubts they'll be ducking under the tape for a closer look. Definitely not hanging around to find out the details and talk theory. She's just a beach-goer with what is probably a terrible case of sex hair, dressed in flip flops and a sundress gawking at the crime scene.

Of course he comes jogging over the moment he sees her – murder forgotten for a moment as he rakes a leering look over her as if he doesn't even see the thin pale cotton covering her shoulder to toe. "Kate," he calls, reaching for her hand to hurry their connection. Just that easily he distracts her as much as he already is, pressing a kiss to her forehead before nudging his nose and lips against the bend of her shoulder into her neck. "I still maintain that we need to buy you more clothes that don't hide this." His mouth settles against her skin, skimming up to her ear as his hands settles at her waist.

She's still tired, still annoyed, possibly more so because she can't believe that she still can't control the surge of heat and amazement that floods her when he touches without hesitation. His touch is constant, impulsive, and so eager that she can't quite understand how he contained this urge for so long – the looks that precede these touches have been around almost as long as he has and she's come to see them as her only warning that he will touch her if she doesn't stop him.

Her hands have drifted up to grip his biceps and she shivers, his soft lips skittering across her ear. "Good morning," he hums against her skin, warming her in the cool beach breeze so quickly that she doesn't bother to point out that it would be a better morning if they were still in bed.

It feels so good and she almost forgives him for dragging them out here.

"Morning," she hums back, leaning more fully into his chest, letting his fingers splay across her lower back, crinkling the cotton. Tilting her chin upwards, she forces him to stop tickling her ear with his breath and lands a kiss against his mouth, wondering if the right amount of teasing might make him forget this whole adventure.

But he returns the kiss only briefly, grinning through the drag of her tongue before pulling back to remind her, "C'mon. I've never been the one to call _you_to a crime scene. Who knew we still had firsts?"

Her eyes roll as he tugs her towards the tape as he calls out to the officers, she can't quite believe they're lifting the tape, letting them in. Castle's arm drapes over her shoulders as one of the uniforms asks, "This Detective Beckett?"

He's asking Castle but she shrugs off the arm and extends a hand towards the officer. "That would be me."

"Nice to meet you – Mr. Castle here tells me you're NYPD, homicide," he replies, shaking her hand before making introductions. "I'm Robert Tate, this is my partner, Ben Cooper and we're with the Florida State Patrol."

She nods to the shorter young man and shakes his hand as well, trying to puzzle out exactly what Castle had told them by the warm greeting these men are giving her. They each give her a slow once over, Tate lingers longest on her feet. He stares for a long moment and she can't stop herself from curling up her toes in response.

Finally, he looks back up at her face as she feels Castle moving up behind her, not quite touching, but close enough she can sense his presence.

"So your hotel room is directly over our crime scene. Talk about ruining your getaway. We already asked Mr. Castle here, but did you see or hear anything unusual tonight?" Officer Tate asks, lifting his notepad as Kate feels a grin spreading across her face, because she can't believe Castle didn't get it. This is an interview – of potential murder suspects – not an invitation to participate in their investigation. And Tate is still stealing glances at her feet.

Smiling, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid with the flight and the drive out here I was wiped out – I didn't hear a thing. We turned in pretty early, around eleven, I think. Didn't even make it out on the balcony."

Officer Tate tosses his partner a knowing look before continuing. "The kid's name is Scott Kelly," he explains, holding up a driver's license. The sandy haired boy is only eighteen, a local, and Kate mentally goes back over the handful of people she's seen since arriving in Florida, but can't place the face.

"Sorry, he doesn't look familiar. But like I said, we just got here yesterday." Purposefully, she shifts to meet Tate's eyes warmly. She might be curious but not curious enough to risk spending her vacation as their prime suspect and she's about to come up with an excuse to head back up to the room when Cooper steps forward, his face held a bit more tightly than his partner.

"Do you mind letting us take a look at your shoes, Detective Beckett?" Cooper asks her, nodding downward and she feels Castle suddenly _get it_, one hand lifting to rest protectively on her shoulder. He tries to tug her back towards him, but she shakes the hand and bends to slip off the cheap plastic flip flops, then hands them to Cooper.

"Not at all, go ahead," she replies, glancing back to give Castle a warning glare. _Just let them do their jobs,_ she begs silently, watching the two officers lean in together, Tate shining his flashlight on the soles of her shoes as they exchange a few whispers.

A moment later, they hand the shoes back, a softer smile now gracing both men's faces. "Sorry about that. We found some footprints in the blood made by what looks like a women's sandal – just needed to be sure yours weren't a match. They're not the right shape or size."

"Not a problem. I understand," she replies, trying to suppress the grin that threatens when she hears Castle letting out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief behind her. "Any other questions for me?"

Tate flips his notebook shut, tucking it back into his belt before answering, his eyes shifting from Kate to Castle and then back again. "No, I think that's about it, Detective Beckett."

She drops her shoes down to the ground, toeing into them carefully before reaching back blindly. Castle catches her fingers in his and she uses the contact to tug him fully up beside her. "We're staying until Sunday, if Rick didn't mention it, so you can reach us in our room if you find anything else. But right now," she says, leaning into Castle's shoulder. She rests her cheek against him and slips her hand from his to wrap her arm around his waist possessively. "I'd really like to get back to bed if that's okay. And I'll get him out of your hair while I'm at it."

Giving Tate a quick wink, she gently hip checks Castle, expecting he'll want to speak but he seems to have gone mute. She skims her other hand up his chest with all the seductive teasing she can muster to emphasize her point –_Yes, I mean I want to take him back to bed and have my way with him if you boys don't object too much._ Tate and Cooper get it instantly, exchanging a brief glance as she feels the tension of Castle's chest shift with the thick gulp he lets out.

"Not a problem," Tate offers, clearing his throat pointedly before adding with a nod towards Castle, "Enjoy what's left of your night."

To his credit, Castle remains silent as she wishes the officers luck with her body still tucked up against his torso. His heart is racing by the time she turns, guiding him with her to lead them back around to the hotel lobby. "Let's go, Castle."

He shuffles through the spin, but then manages to keep up, her hand dropping from his chest.

She waits until they're inside the lobby to drop her hold to poke him square in the chest, hard enough to jolt him. He's so shocked that he stands stock still as she crosses the last few paces to the elevator and presses the button to call it. A few incoherent sounds sputter out of his mouth as he eases forward to join her. "What the hell, Castle? Are you trying to make us potential suspects?"

Rubbing his chest with exaggerated annoyance, he stares at her wide eyed and she can't help her smirk as he asks, "What? I was just…"

"Curious?" she finishes for him. "Couldn't help yourself? Tell me, Castle, what part of poking around a crime scene on an empty beach at three a.m. isn't at least a little suspicious? I'm not a cop here. That wasn't my crime scene. I can't believe they even let you past the tape."

With an announcing ding, the elevator arrives, gliding open and she steps inside quickly. When she turns, she finds that once again she's left him behind. He's searching her face like he's expecting she has all the answers written there. Then he just blurts out, "Is this a bad time to mention that you're incredibly gorgeous when you get all riled up?"

She gapes at him, shooting out a hand to grab the elevator door before it can close between them. Truthfully, she's biting back a bit of laughter and affection because the compliment is bringing a blush to her face and she knows that he meant well. He'd probably had some of the same initial fears that she'd had upon discovering police lights outside their window. Plus, it's nearly four a.m. now and she kind of loves just how easily he crumbles when she _tries. _But it _is_ almost four a.m. and her caffeine addiction is already clamoring for attention because it doesn't know she's on vacation and heading back to bed and not to work, so she's not quite ready to give up the upper hand. It feels good to still be able to joke like this – reassuring in a way that only works because he is who he is.

"Get in," she barks, holding the door until he hops into action, then shuffles into position beside her.

When she drops her hand, the doors swoosh shut and she presses the button for their floor. As the elevator starts its slow climb, he murmurs, "Kate… look, I'm sorry."

One glance tells her the apology is genuine and the fear tingeing his pout dissolves what's left of her disgruntled mood. So she leans into his shoulder, lifting her chin up to wait for him to dare a glance her way before admitting, "It's okay, Castle. Make me coffee and all will be forgiven… I might just be a tad grumpy – it scared me, you know. I woke up and you were gone."

His lips part, several shades of shocked and amazed spreading across his features. She's not sure if he really believed that she was angry or if he's still having trouble believing that she's sharing these things with him. It's still not always easy, but for some reason, this admission is easy for her – perhaps because she already knew he would understand what had gotten under her skin.

"Deal," he promises softly, pressing that giddy grin to her lips in a glancing kiss. It makes her blush again, the warmth lingering out of the elevator and all the way into their room.

The squad cars are still casting light into their room, but she isn't interested anymore. She shifts to face him once they get the door shut and drapes both her arms over his shoulders to hook him against her. "Gorgeous, huh?" she teases, watching his eyes dance in the light – coffee completely forgotten.

He leers and slips his arms around her at the waist, hands dropping to her lower back before kissing her softly. "Did I say gorgeous? I mean terrifying. Deadly…" he murmurs, pulling back just enough to allow space for words before reconnecting more fully.

"Much better," she mumbles back into his mouth as his hands suddenly drop down, fingers splaying out to span across her ass; squeezing then dragging his fingertips to and fro. His mouth goes completely still against her and she can't stop herself from chuckling into him, breaking the kiss. "Yes?" she huffs, smiling up at him as his fingers tighten once more.

"Hmmm…" Once more, his fingers drag upwards, spanning around her hips now, dragging over the thin cotton of her sundress in his quest. His brow furrows in confusion for a moment before a smile tugs his cheeks upwards. "Kate…"

It sounds like a warning, but he's frozen again – gawking at her in surprise. "What? I figured you took them. Plus, I was _trying_ to hurry. Someone was about to get himself arrested for interfering with a police investigation…"

"Was not," he counters, his fingers finally moving, gathering the hem of her dress upwards.

"Shut up, Castle, or I'll have to insist on that coffee first…" she promises as she wriggles her fingers under his t-shirt, intentionally glancing along his sides where she knows he's ticklish and grins broadly as he trembles in his effort to hold back a squeal of giggles. "Or maybe I'll just misplace all of your underwear…"

Her fingers push upwards then, taking advantage of his slow, thought-processing blink to bare his chest to her touch. A moment later, he gives in, silently dragging her dress up and over her head and returning it to its place on the floor. Neither one of them notices until hours later that the flashing lights have gone away, the sun replacing them, casting the room in a softer hue.


End file.
